My obituary…

The moment we are living now is very precious and people around us also are the precious. We know it only after missing the moment and the people. The story below is a nice one to read and think.

The obituary page had my name and photo in it. It wasn’t a too good snap of me, I thought, as I looked at it absent mindedly. And the n I gave a cry of terror.

“What’s my photo doing in the death column?”

I remembered the sharp chest pain of last night. I looked around, it was morning; but my coffee had not been made. People were entering the house and walking through the bedroom door. I walked in and looked on the bed. There I was, al laid out; dead. People stared at me, not many were crying, and some I noticed, looked relieved.

“Listen”, I shouted “I’m here, I’m okay, and I’m not dead.”

Nobody heard me. They were all looking at me on the bed. I walked back into the sitting room. The coffin had arrived. It was being set up in the centre. I watched them carry m6 body and put it in.

“I’m not ready to go as yet,” I shouted “I still have work to do.

Don’t burry me, before I’m ready!” I looked around.

“Where’s my family?” I asked myself.

They were in the next room weeping. I’m not dead,” I shouted to my wife and children.

They continued to weep.

“How can I go before telling you I love you?” I asked my wife.

“How can I go, before hugging you both?” I asked my children.

I wept with them. The singing was coming from the next room. I walked in as they sang my favourite songs. There were tears in eyes of one of the man as he sang.

“But we haven’t talked to each other for years,” I said to him. “Why are you crying? Come on, shake my hand and let’s make up.”

The man continued crying as he sang. He did not see my extended hand. My dog walked up and smelt my coffin. She didn’t seem to shattered I was no more.

“I guess I was too strict to you,” I told her, “Come, and let me pet you.” The yawned as it stretched out and fell asleep.

The singing stopped as the priest came in. He sat next to the man who was crying and leaned to talk to him. I went clos to hear what he was asking.

“Is there anything good,” he asked, “The dead man did anything good in his lifetime?” The man who was crying shook his head sadly.

There was a hush as my wife walked into the room. “She looks beautiful,” I thought.

“You look beautiful”. I shouted.

She did not hear my words. She had never heard them before, because I had never said them.

“GOD!” I screamed in agony, “A little more time to do all the things I should have done!”

I watched as they lifted my coffin and carried it to the hearse outside. My dog did not bother getting up from deep sleep. The priest refrained from saying word about me. They all understood, there was no good words to say. I turned to sorry the man who had the tears. I turned to hug my children. I leaned over to whisper words of love into my wife’s ears, and then I looked up and cried “God, one more chance!”

“You shouted in your sleep,” said my wife as she gently woke me up. “Did you have a nightmare?”

She looked startled, as I hugged her tight and whispered, “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”…!”